


O’ Lover of Mine

by HiddenEye



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drunk Shiro (Voltron), Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Post-Season/Series 07, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 10:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15660984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenEye/pseuds/HiddenEye
Summary: The scanner beeped underneath his palm before the door slid open, eliciting a soft gasp of surprise before a wall of muscle immediately toppled forward. Keith snapped his hands out and gripped onto his waist, the desert’s chill apparent in the black leather of his jacket and the point of his nose. Shiro let out a short chuckle, simply letting his face be squished against Keith's shoulder while he did nothing to carry his own weight.“Son of a—“ Keith snapped his mouth close, lips thinned into a straight line as he adjusted his footing with a step back. Shiro was a sagging mass against his slighter frame, and Keith had a half mind to drop him if he wasn’t going to hold himself up later. “Shiro, what happened?”





	O’ Lover of Mine

It was the first, firm knock that jerked Keith from his slumber, as if his body was already half-conscious of the shuffle of feet just outside his bedroom door merely a split second before the first strike.

It was the next couple beat of knuckles against the exact same surface for Keith to stare wide-eyed at the only barrier separating him from anyone at the other side of the door, heart thumping in his chest from the adrenaline of a sudden noise in the dark night.

“Keith, s’me.”

He let out a quiet breath, wiping a hand over his face and chest to shush down his loud anxiety, the tense of his shoulders slumping with the dragging remains of sleep.

He reached under his pillow to scourge for his phone, the screen light glaring back at him before he blinked a few times to get used to the brightness, and saw how it was far too early to be up when he had class at zero-eight-hundred on the dot.

There was more knocking, boots squeaking loudly against the polished floor that threatened to wake up Keith’s neighbours. It was only an act of grace he didn’t have a roommate to share the space with him, or there would be questions on why the same officer who pulled strings to help him get in Galaxy Garrison was now knocking his dorm door. “C’mon, Keith, I know you’re awake,” there was a thud of something solid hitting against the door, as if Shiro let his forehead fall against it. “Need you to open the door for me.”

Keith pursed his lips, shoving his phone back under the pillow before slipping out of his blankets. Padding towards the door, he let the worst case scenarios fleet through his mind for Shiro to be at this side of the building when he had his own room at the officers’ designated wing.

The scanner beeped underneath his palm before the door slid open, eliciting a soft gasp of surprise before a wall of muscle immediately toppled forward. Keith snapped his hands out and gripped onto his waist, the desert’s chill apparent in the black leather of his jacket and the point of his nose. Shiro let out a short chuckle, simply letting his face be squished against Keith's shoulder while he did nothing to carry his own weight.

“Son of a—“ Keith snapped his mouth close, lips thinned into a straight line as he adjusted his footing with a step back. Shiro was a sagging mass against his slighter frame, and Keith had a half mind to drop him if he wasn’t going to hold himself up later. “Shiro, what happened?”

“Went to the bar with the goal of getting drunker than a seasoned sailor,” the words were muffled, and Shiro still didn’t give any hint to move while Keith glanced at the hallway for unwelcomed ears, eyes, and words. “I did, get drunk like a sailor, I mean. S’great, could do it again.”

“Yeah,” Keith walked backwards to get them both into his room, Shiro shuffling after. His jacket smelled of cigarettes while somewhere near his jaw was still sticky from spilled beer, but underneath all of that he was still warm, breathing a little too fast, a solid body that Keith had his arms wrapped around so guiding him to the empty bed would be easier.

It was one thing to see Shiro in pressed olive uniforms with pride and confidence surging out in waves, giving smiles and advices freely without anything of sort in return. It was another to have him knocking in the middle of the night, all careful show of prim and proper thrown out of the window with a substitute Keith wasn’t sure he was supposed to see.

He didn’t know what he should feel about having to witness anything other than composure, but Shiro was there, practically in his arms, rolling his head to rest his cheek properly on his shoulder as if to get comfortable on the floor of a cluttered storeroom. Shiro had a goal of having some aspects of a sailor, and he achieved that. He had another goal to find his way to Keith’s room, and he achieved that with the same stupid determination only a drunkard would ever have the will of doing.

He had a boyfriend. He had a boyfriend, and they wanted to get married in half a year, just another year before the launch. He had a boyfriend, and yet he was a few hallways down too far to be in his own bed.

Pushing his spread books and pens to the side, Keith gently pushed onto Shiro’s sternum to make him sit on the edge of the mattress, hearing the way he groaned lightly when he dropped himself like stone onto it. Keith kept the man at arm’s length, hands now clasped firmly on his shoulders to make sure Shiro wasn’t going to topple over, and bend over in order to maintain eye contact while Keith carefully searched his face.

“You okay?” Keith asked, trying to sound as casual as possible despite having an officer in his room at three a.m. “Do you need anything?”

Shiro licked his dry lips in response, dragging his eyes up until steel seared brightly into his own, and the pick of his heartbeat was nothing more of an accident Keith would have dug out and exterminate later.

Exhaustion dragged in dark circles that occupied underneath his eyes, a stark contrast to how his tanned skin now appeared too pale from the white lamp light on his desk, giving him almost a haunted look. Despite how cheery Shiro seemed in the beginning, there was still a grim air to the slump of his frame and his limp hands, palms up, almost lifeless to the point it made worry clutched onto Keith by his spine.

“I’m fine,” Shiro said quietly, far too solemn than when Keith first caught him. “I’m just a little drunk than I thought I would be.”

“Wasn’t that your goal?” Keith watched as those lashes dropped with the weight of shame, a breathless chuckle escaping his lips while Shiro used his thumb to rub the band around his wrist.

“Two drinks in, it was. Initially? I was hoping those two shots would be enough but unfortunately,” he gave a loose shrug, head lolling to the side, enough to make Keith tightened his grip slightly in hopes Shiro wouldn’t topple forward and injure himself. “I had a thought that maybe a lil’ more wouldn’t hurt me when I was already like that, up until I became like _this._ ”

Shiro swiped his hand over his front — a little too harshly, a lot more annoyed than he probably wanted, but all the same, his thoughts were already clouded with his drinking, making his movements uncoordinated in some ways he rather not show.

It was, _jarring_ , perhaps, to see him like this. Keith only ever met the guy properly after he stole his car, and even then, Shiro was all smiles and second chances.

“I probably don’t have a say in this,” Keith began, lowering himself on the bed beside Shiro, a hand still planted on the hunch of his back as he stared at his hands. “But, I was wondering if you’re,” Keith pinched one corner of his mouth. “Allowed, for alcohol consumption, considering your condition.”

“A can of beer, maybe. Taken every other week. But, vodka? Some guess-your-red-cup drink? Nope,” Shiro fell backwards so abruptly that Keith snapped both hands forward to catch him. Shiro, however, made himself dead weight and trapped those hands Keith had on him, his own arms sprawled on the bare white mattress with little care. Of what, Keith didn’t know. He suspected whatever it was that controlled Shiro’s destiny. “Especially not every night.”

Keith slowly pulled his hands from under Shiro, who made no movement nor any sort of indication he noticed. “Are you?”

There was a shift, and Keith lifted his eyes to meet the furrow of Shiro’s calculating frown. “What?”

“Drinking every night?”

Shiro laughed, shoulders jumping once; short, jerky, and empty. “Oh, no. No, I can’t waste my time and body doing that. I have a lot of things to do until it gets to those things. If I ever do, to be honest.”

Keith hummed, leaning against his hand as he looked down at Shiro. “You will.”

Shiro stared at him through his lashes. Even if he wasn’t in his right mind then and there would be a chance when he would apologise for his own behaviour, Keith saw deep contemplation in those eyes, a look that shouldn’t exist on a person who came knocking on his door in the middle of the night for companionship after drinking his senses out. It made _Keith_ vulnerable, and he wasn’t sure how he liked having to be taken apart and sticked on again when Shiro was like this. _Especially_ when he was like this.

He was exposed, left under scrutinisation; Keith let the feeling wash over until it enveloped him completely, settling down like second skin he had no notion of picking on soon.

There was a heave of breath through his nose, and Shiro looked away by letting the side of his face slump against his shoulder. “That sounds like an awful promise now.”

It was, in fact, an awful thing to hold on to when they knew what awaited at the end of the tunnel, or at least an outline of it. An inevitable doom, probably, as predicted by a doctor who frequently checked on his physical condition since Shiro was diagnosed and had set a time on how to live his life.

Beliefs of how doctors were self-elected gods, giving away their creeds in forms of paperwork and solemn reports and selecting dates of deaths, were diminished with time — now, they were human, they had no powers that controlled life and death itself, but they will help Shiro survive long enough to live his dream. They had to, like they were supposed to do. Like Keith was going to help Shiro know his worth.

“It’s still a promise,” the moon shone brightly from the slit of his drapes, what little light they had stretched over his table, slashed across their lap, before it hit the opposite wall. Its glow allowed Keith to watch Shiro’s chest moved with each breath, to notice his lowered eyelids. “It’s something you’ve been keeping close for so long. That can’t be dropped now.”

Shiro had gone so far. To have him discouraged by his superiors’ words and a few drinks after years of dedication and hard work won’t do, Keith wouldn’t allow it on his life.

“You’re right, of course,” Shiro chuckled, turning to look at him then, a small smile quirked up. “On a side note, the bartender is gonna be so pissed if they find out about my real age.”

Keith grinned. “How old are you in that ID?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Three years older, not bad.”

Shiro snorted out a laugh, curling his arms to his chest. “Definitely not bad.”

 

* * *

 

The hospital was alright, Keith thought, despite the smell of chemicals wafting around the air and having a needle resting underneath his skin of his left hand. The blanket was soft, and Earth food had never felt as good as chicken tenders, mashed potatoes, along with sautéed vegetables.

Krolia and Kolivan already left an hour ago, wanting Keith to rest more after his friends, his Paladins, had crowded his bed to give him teary smiles and tight hugs.

“I’ll be here if you ever need me,” Krolia said quietly once they were alone, brushing the back of her fingers over his cheek from where she sat beside him. Her eyes softened tremendously when Keith rested his own hand on top of hers. “I’ll only be gone to settle some things with Sam, and then I’ll come over to sleep here for the night.”

“You don’t have to.” Really, she didn’t. But, Keith only watched how she leaned down to plant a lingering kiss onto his forehead. There was no stopping the way he closed his eyes at the touch, a heavy weight lifted off his chest when she spoke again.

“I want to.”

Now, Keith let the low sound of the television as white noises, filling the room lightly with its murmuring while he looked over papers of doodles of him and others from Lance’s nephew and niece. Everyone had them, he heard, and he couldn’t stop smiling softly at a drawing of him wielding a black sword above his head. It was cute, especially when the miniature version of him stood beside what looked like a large purple cat lying on the ground, a couple of X’s as its eyes.

There was a knock on the door, before the guard outside opened it for another guest for the day, and Keith felt his breath clogging his airway when Shiro stepped inside with a mute _thump_ of his boots. The orange shine of the evening sun glowed onto his uniform, picking out the gleam of his badges and success and the golden buttons of his clothes. It caught onto his white hair, almost shining with the touches of starlight, onto the golden badge pinned onto his captain’s hat, while the new arm was a solid mass by his side.

It was a sight to behold, one Keith never thought he would see during this lifeline, during this time of the day where they used their months and years to fight off enemies they had sworn to demolish, with their oath of protecting those who needed them still embedded in their bones. It was seeing Shiro again, standing proud, standing tall.

Shiro reached up and pulled the hat off his head, a small smile taking over his lips. “Leader.”

What papers Keith had been holding onto crinkled minutely under his hold, where his hands suddenly felt like dead weight to carry on their own as he let them fall slowly onto his lap. He breathed out quietly, staring unbelievingly back at him. “Captain.”

The word caught in his throat, affecting Shiro as much as it did to him when Keith saw the way he swallowed air, fingers gripping tightly onto his hat. Shiro walked deeper into the room with some haste, face set in determination.

He screeched to a stop just beside his bed, breathing a little heavily as Keith looked back at him with blood roaring in his ears; waiting, wondering. There was a moment, when time stopped for them and only them, that the same strength Shiro put up for his many misfortunes crumbled and fell. There was a moment when time took pity on its heroes and let them rejoice.

His knees gave out unwillingly before Keith, mouth parting with wordless sayings while he sank heavily to the ground.

“No, don’t,” the words stammered out of Keith as he snapped his hand out to grip onto Shiro’s shoulder, wanting to stop him, wanting him to stop. Tears blurred his sight as he felt Shiro clutch onto his hand, both flesh and metal, hat fallen and forgotten, but Keith wasn’t able to see his face from how Shiro let his head hang between his shoulders. “Please, Shiro. Get up.”

Shiro shook his head, the sound of a wounded animal escaping his mouth just as his shoulders shook with stabbing grief. Keith shook his own head, clutching those hands tighter with his own. “No, Shiro,” he croaked out, streams of tears now trailed down his face, unrelenting. “Shiro, I need you to get up. Please, I need to see you.”

Shiro still shook his head, still gripping onto his hands. “I’m sorry, I am so sorry.”

“Shiro,” Keith sobbed, unable to stop his heart from baring itself to him, from screaming for this man as he tugged weakly on his hands, prompting him to get up. “Come on. Shiro, _please_.”

Shiro gasped, head lifting up to reveal his reddened eyes, his wet cheeks, droplets of moisture hanging onto his lashes. He pursed his lips together, trying to force himself to quiet down the noises he made, but there was a stagger in his breath as he heaved out sharply, gathering what control he was losing.

It didn’t matter if they were in pain, it didn’t matter if this was what they were reduced to the moment they faced each other again, away from so many eyes. It didn’t matter if the Captain of Atlas knelt for the Leader of Voltron, it didn’t matter if they wept for themselves and for everything they had gone through.

It didn’t matter because they were together again. The last time they touched each other was how Keith pulled him from the ground, wounded and burnt out with Sendak dead and gone, the Black Lion looking over them as it always would as the wind whirled around them in victory.

Keith tugged on his hands again, harder than the last, and Shiro stood up before he climbed onto the space Keith left for him to lay on. He pulled him nearer as Shiro tightly wrapped an arm around his waist, burying his face into his shoulder with his breaths gushing out heavily through his mouth.

They stayed like that for a while — until the sun was already sinking at the edge of the planet, until their tears were dried and they were breathing quietly against each other, with silenced laughter coming out from the television as they stared at their linked hands together.

Keith rubbed his thumb against Shiro’s knuckles, moving back and forth into a familiar rhythm, his mind giving a numbing hum at the back of his head. He felt the way Shiro directed his gaze to him then, and met the way those steel eyes that searched into him, flitting around his face and over the scar on his cheek.

“I saw your speech on TV,” Keith murmured, remembering the pride that came with it as cheers erupted for Shiro, for the people, for Voltron. “Pretty impressive.”

“Because they were the truth,” Shiro replied just as quietly. “They will always be the truth.”

“Yes,” Keith knew how mighty the people would be once they worked together, how their need to protect their home planet stood stronger against the face of danger. It was seeing the fruit of their hard work, the possibilities of a stronger bond between them all, connecting them in more ways than one. “You’ve done it, Shiro.”

Curiosity glinted through then, and for once, the remains of a frowning line between his bows almost disappeared. “Done what?”

“What you always wanted to do, and more,” Keith let out a small peel of laughter then, the soft touches of disbelief spreading across his chest. “So much more.”

Shiro lowered his lashes, watching their linked hands again with his lips thinned lightly. “Too much, apparently.”

Keith immediately knew what he meant, and used the arm around Shiro to squeeze him more to himself, causing Shiro to press his nose deeper into his chest. “You are a wonderful person.”

Shiro froze, breath halting. “Keith.”

“You are, always have been.”

“There are,” Shiro paused, realising there was a rasp in his protest before he cleared his throat. “So many things I have done that I’m not proud of.”

“There are so many things I’ve done that I’m not proud of too,” Keith said, watching how quickly the skies turned into its pinks and purples, before he turned back to the man in his arms. “But, you have to know that sometimes it’s best we just leave it all behind.” He smiled then. “Like the time you puked into my trash can after wasting yourself the night before, and you couldn’t stop apologising after that even when I told you it was alright.”

Shiro let out a breath of a chuckle, the tense lines of his shoulder softening. “The worst hangover I had in my life.”

“Had to dig for some painkillers I had with me,” Keith picked up one of the papers he pushed to the side after Shiro came in, and the five mighty lions that fought war and had gone through wormholes were then coloured in crayons. “You actually washed the trash can before you left.”

“I couldn’t just leave my mess there,” Shiro reached for one that had Atlas and Voltron standing side by side. The kids probably brought a whole box of crayons by how they managed to capture every colour on the two ships. “That would be gross.”

“It was gross,” Keith agreed, looking down at him. “But, I would’ve just clean it if you weren’t up for it.”

Shiro tilted his head to look back at him, a grin growing. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Keith only shrugged. Shiro turned back to the paper in hand. “I have one like this too.”

“The artistic ability these kids have are kinda incredible,” Keith pointed to Atlas. “They’re definitely better than Lance’s. Look, they even got the ridiculous hip-to-leg ratio right.”

That pulled out a shocked laugh from Shiro. “Hey, don’t insult my ship.”

“You have a ridiculous ship.”

“We’ve been driving Voltron for months and you say my ship is ridiculous? That’s not fair.”

“If it makes you any better, both of them are just oversized Gundams,” Keith let his finger trace the length of one of Atlas’ legs, quickly continuing on when Shiro opened his mouth. “I like the way what they did with the wings, though.”

He could feel the way Shiro rolled his eyes rather than seeing it himself. “Yeah.”

Shifting paper by paper, they simply talked about the little things that had to do with everything and nothing at once, the stars twinkling into view as the deep skies spread itself over the canvas of Earth. It was when Shiro glanced at the holographic numbers by the wall that Keith felt his stomach lurched downwards, knowing it was time to go. Shiro still had work he needed to look into, more meetings to be involved with numerous world leaders now that Earth was part of this intergalactic war. They had to be more careful than ever, for the sake of their people and for the sake of their home.

Shiro slowly pushed himself up, untangling their limbs so that he was sitting by his side, and Keith was left looking at him with a heavy pull towards the soft look of his tilted lips, in the way they still held onto each other by the curl of their fingertips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Shiro said into the quiet space between them, and Keith squeezed their fingers together.

“I’ll be here,” Keith whispered, unable to say anything else.

What more was there? Keith would always be available for Shiro, there would not be any other way to put what he had promised to himself since the beginning of their friendship. Keith would always be there for Shiro like Shiro had been there for Keith, and this oath had saved their lives for many times.

He made sure of that, and it was going to stay that way.

There was a sheen in his eyes when Shiro leaned forward to press a firm kiss onto the corner of his mouth; so raw and sure, so full of promises and much, much more, and Keith couldn’t help the shudder in his breath when he exhaled sharply through his teeth. It was reaching up and holding Shiro in place as Keith turned his face to his, nose bumping against each other as they breathed the same air and pressed into the same space, having the world bared to them in form of crystal pools of their eyes.

It was knowing right then they had the time to themselves for the tiniest moment, it was not having to answer the inquiry of many and the questions of their peers. It was only them, in that hospital room, finally touching each other hearts with the love they kept for the other. It was about Shiro and Keith, side by side, without Death lurking by.

It was about them. It will always be about them.

And Keith sealed that deal with a tilt of his head and a kiss that was sorely overdue.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this season was great and I’m still emotional.


End file.
